Pay Day After Pay Day
by Foxcat93
Summary: Written as a sequel to the Chaplin film "Pay Day," Little Tramp Charlie and his wife Phyllis wage a slapstick battle with each other in their stormy marriage. Rated T for slapstick violence, alcohol abuse and a lot of lying.
1. Phyllis

_**Author's Notes:** This story is based on the 1922 Charles Chaplin film "Pay Day". It uses some of the characters from the story, mainly Charlie, Phyllis and Syd. Chaplin played his Little Tramp character in this film, although the Tramp had a job and was married in "Pay Day." The actress Phyllis Allen played the part of his wife and Chaplin's real life half-brother Sydney played a small part in the film, one of Charlie's buddies, but since the film didn't say he wasn't related to Charlie, I decided to say he was Charlie's brother in my story. Mabel Normand wasn't in this film, but I put her character Mabel in as Syd's wife. The original film revolves around Charlie and Phyllis' marriage. I just went a bit further and imagined what could have happened to them after the movie ended. I have tried to write it in the tone of the film which was comedic and there was a lot of slapstick, The slapstick in my story is a bit violent for which I have rated it T. There is also some alcohol abuse and considerable lying, which warrant a T also. However, it's all done in the spirit of fun and no one really gets hurt. Also, the title is a bit punny..._

**Pay Day After Pay Day**

It was a breezy summer night. Or perhaps one might say morning, as it was considerably after midnight. A small, dark-haired youngish man with a black toothbrush moustache, wearing a derby and carrying a cane, was walking carefully along the side walk. He occasionally stretched his arms out to the side like a tightrope walker, trying to keep his balance. Reaching his home, he misjudged the height of the steps leading to his porch and fell onto the steps, sliding down again to the cement pavement. He made another attempt, this time making a loud clatter, as he slid back down the steps again. He hoped his wife hadn't heard. He decided that it might be best to hide for a moment to make sure he hadn't awakened her.

The little man sneaked around the side of the porch and sat down against the house, certainly out of the line of sight of his wife, should she happen to open the door. He pulled out his pocket watch and clicked open the cover, wondering what time it was. Nine-thirty? He scratched his head. He knew it must be later than that; it was still dark. He put the watch closer to his face. He could hear it ticking. Then he rotated it a little. Now it said three o'clock. Maybe that was correct. He was still a bit puzzled. How could the watch tell him two things at the same time? He put the watch back in his pocket.

He dug in his pockets to see how much money he had left. He had been paid recently and had managed to squirrel away a bit for a night on the town before his wife demanded he hand over his pay envelope. He checked all of his pockets. There wasn't much left. He found only a stray quarter dollar in the bottom of his waistcoat pocket where he kept the watch. He put the money back and patted it, it would be safe there.

He noticed that in the dark, normal things appeared a bit strange. There seemed to be more trees than he remembered in the yard and looking up, there were two or three moons in the sky. He tried to count them, but there was a different number each time. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes, for he was very sleepy. His head drooped and his hat fell off into his lap.

The next thing the little fellow knew was that he was being awakened violently. He was still sitting in what was actually his wife's flower garden, which extended around the perimeter of the house. Someone was hitting him rather painfully. He put his hands over his face to deflect the blows and realized that he had fallen asleep out in the garden and his wife Phyllis was hitting him with her umbrella.

"Get out of my flower garden, you lazy little tramp!" said Phyllis. She stopped beating him for a minute as she pulled him up by the collar on his cutaway suit jacket. She was considerably taller and heftier than the slender little man and he knew she had a pretty powerful right hook too. He tried not to tangle with her if he could help it.

From the dopey expression on his face, Phyllis could tell her good-for-nothing husband, Charlie, had been out on the town with his good-for-nothing friends again. He was still pretty sloshed.

He smiled and tried to tip his hat to her, but it had fallen off. He looked down on the ground to see where it was.

"Where were you last night, Charlie?" She finally let him go and he fell backwards, his legs flipping into the air. He tried to get up and Phyllis grabbed him and stood him up. He tried to look solemn so Phyllis wouldn't know he had been drinking.

"I asked you a question!" said Phyllis, her hands on her ample hips. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun on top of her head and her dark eyes were angry. She was wearing a house dress with an apron over it, ready for a day of work.

"What toime is it?" asked Charlie. He belched softly and hiccupped and put his hand to his mouth. He still tried to look solemn.

"It's six o'clock in the morning. Time for any self-respecting man to have been working for an hour or two. And this isn't funny, Charlie. "

"No, it ain't." He tried to look solemn, but he couldn't, even with Phyllis' sombre presence just in front of him.

He hooked the crook of his cane around the bannister to keep himself steady. "Phyllis, I'm toired...I ain't slep' all noigh'..."

Phyllis stared at her husband for a moment, her hands still on her hips. "Hmmmpphhh! You certainly are a sorry sight!" she said. After a pause, she added, "All right, I'll let you sleep for a little while. Then you must get up and start doing your chores!"

"What dye is it?" asked Charlie. He was still confused.

"It's Saturday, Charlie. You'd know if you weren't so sloshed."

"Bu' I wanted t' go fishin' t'dye wi' Syd..."

"That worthless brother of yours! He gets into as much trouble as you do. You'd do well to stay away from him. I'm amazed that, seeing as there are prohibition laws, you two can still have your nights on the town and come home like this!"

"It's easy if yer careful," said Charlie, hiccupping again.

"It must be, or _you_ wouldn't be able to do it!"

Charlie looked her in the eye, which wasn't easy, considering he was swaying a little and having a hard time focusing his eyes. He said with as much conviction as he could muster:

"Phyllis, I'm th' man o' the 'ouse. I'm goin' fishin' wi' Syd t'dye!"

"Oh no, you're not!" said his wife. Phyllis set her jaw a bit firmer and glared at him for an instant, her brows knit. It usually didn't do Charlie much good to stand up to her. She just got angrier. She grabbed him by the back of his coat and dragged him into the house. She pulled him into the bedroom.

"Now don't forget to take off your coat and hat and hang them up. And for heaven's sake, take off those filthy shoes before you get into bed. I had to wash the bedclothes several times the last time you did that...mud all over..." She slammed the door on him and went about her business.

At least he would have some peace and quiet for a little while. He removed his outer clothing and got into bed in his long underwear, but forgot to take off his hat. He fell asleep almost immediately.

He awoke up to a loud banging on the bedroom door. It felt as if Phyllis were pounding directly on his head. He groaned. The time had gone by rather quickly. He sat up holding his head.

Phyllis poked her face into the bedroom. "Get dressed, Charlie. It's time to get up. I've made you breakfast and hot coffee. Get out here before it gets cold."

"I'm comin', me lovely," he answered, even though "lovely" was definitely not a word that described his wife. Fearsome, perhaps... He couldn't quite remember why he had proposed to her...


	2. The Model T

The marriage proposal had taken place at a party five years ago. Charlie was attending without an invitation. By virtue of the many guests, and the lights being low, one more stray guest wasn't noticed. Charlie pilfered quite a few drinks before the food was passed around and when Phyllis sat down beside him, he thought she looked quite pretty. They got acquainted and talked for hours. He told her all about himself and she seemed quite impressed. He must have have said something that, to Phyllis, sounded like a marriage proposal. Charlie, unfortunately, didn't remember that. He only remembered her making the wedding preparations and being rather confused as to what he had actually said. However, he rather liked the idea of being married and a respectable life, which he hadn't had up until then. And Phyllis wasn't bad looking when she was smiling. Granted, she was taller and bigger than he was, but she seemed to have a nice personality.

But then there was the nightmare after the wedding. Phyllis wasn't at all like he had thought her to be. She monitored his every move and demanded his entire pay cheque be turned over to her. She made him work in his free time in the evenings and weekends and never let up on the nagging. And he could never be with his friends unless he stole away, like this past evening. And ..Phyllis had framed the proof...she hung their marriage certificate in the living room so there would be no questions about it.

Now his brother Syd had done much better for himself. His wife Mabel was a tiny woman with dark hair and huge brown eyes. She had rosebud lips that could smile or pout or take the shape of an "O" when surprised. Mabel was pretty and vivacious, charming and feisty. Even though she became close friends with Phyllis, she didn't lose her sweetness. She could become angry when Syd seriously stepped out of line, though. Syd tried to stay on his wife's good side and Charlie just tried to stay out of Phyllis' way. Charlie didn't think Phyllis had a good side. Both the men would make any excuse to get away from the wives whenever they could.

Charlie was determined to go fishing with Syd today. He didn't care what Phyllis said. Syd and Mabel lived just down the street and Charlie thought that it shouldn't be too difficult to sneak away after Phyllis gave him the list of chores for the day. He finished breakfast and Phyllis came in the kitchen with a huge list of chores for Charlie. He sighed.

"If I get all them things done, c'n I go fishin'?" he asked politely.

"I told you to stay away from Syd. He's no good. I feel sorry for poor Mabel, having to put up with that man. And you couldn't possibly get all those things done today. I want you to work slowly and carefully, not the slap-dash job you normally do."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said resignedly.

He looked at the list. It started out with "Patch hole in roof." He shoved the list in his pocket and pulled out the ladder from the shed. He leaned the ladder against the house and looked for some wood, nails and a hammer. He climbed up to the roof and looked for the hole. He couldn't see any hole. He climbed down again. He picked up the ladder and went around to the other side of the house. He went up again and found the hole. It was rather small, but leaked every time it rained.

He had forgotten the hammer, nails and wood on the other side of the house. He climbed down again and picked them up. He climbed up the ladder again. He had just put the wood over the hole and was about to pound the first nail when Phyllis called to him.

"Char-LEE!" she shrieked. Her voice startled him so that he hit his finger instead of the nail and he dropped the hammer. He lost his grip on the ladder and it started teetering back and forth. He held on for dear life. Then he came down off the roof...as the ladder clattered to the ground and deposited him, back end first, into a large wooden barrel of water.

Charlie got up, feeling miserable in his wet overalls. "What is it?" he asked of Phyllis.

"Well, that was rather clumsy!" she said. "And Charlie, I haven't heard any pounding on the roof yet. It must be at least 45 minutes since you went out to fix the roof...what are you doing?"

"I _am _fixin' th' roof, loike y' said..."

"You're so slow...you'll never get through that list today, never!" She looked a bit self-satisfied as she walked off.

Charlie sighed and picked up his hammer. There _had_ to be a way to outsmart that woman. A half hour later when he had finally finished closing up the hole, he came down from the ladder. He looked at the list again. "Paint the garage." He sighed. The garage didn't look bad. Why, it could go for another five years without paint. Another hundred, for all he cared at the moment. But, he would have to buy some paint. At least that would get him away from Phyllis' prying eyes for a little while.

He went inside the house. "Sweet'ums, I need money fer paint."

"Charlie, I was down at the general store yesterday and the hardware store too. They've extended me credit so we can just put everything on a tab. I'll just pay at the end of the month. Get the paint and tell them to put it on my bill. And Charlie..."

"Ma'am?"

"This does _not_ give you carte blanche to buy anything you want. I will be checking the bill closely at the end of the month and you will have to answer to me if there is anything unusual on the bill!"

"Yes, Ma'am," Charlie said, humbly. He went out to the garage and got in their 1908 Model T. It was the first year that model had been sold and it was really Phyllis' car. She made Charlie wash and wax it every week. He knew that would be on the list too.

Phyllis followed him out of the house and watched as he drove away. "Now don't you get any scratches on my car, Charlie!" she shouted after him.

The automobile was 15 years old already, but still looked perfectly new. It ran well, too. Phyllis had Charlie take it in to the mechanic every few months for a check. He grumbled that he could do just as good a job on the car himself and save a lot of money, but Phyllis would have her way. She didn't like him messing about with the motor. He was likely to break something. However Charlie _did_ like driving it.

Charlie pulled up to the hardware store. He bought the paint on credit, then almost ran into his brother Syd, coming into the store.

"Are y' ready t' go fishin' this afte'noon?" asked Syd.

Charlie sighed. "There ain't no chance, Syd. Look at th' list Phyllis 'as fer me. She won't le' me go 'less all them things is done...""

Syd whistled. "Lotta jobs, there, Charlie. She can't be serious!" Syd picked up a fishing rod. "Look at wha' they 'ave 'ere, Charlie. Fancy new rod n' reel. I 'ave money fer it. Why don't y' buy one y'se'f?"

"Don't 'ave no money. She set up an account so she don't 'ave t' give me no money."

"Charlie! That's a foine thing! Now y' c'n buy wha'ever y' want!"

"Phyllis will foind out at th' end o' th' month, an' then I'm in fer it."

"She don't 'ave t' foind out..."

"Wha'd y'mean, Syd?"

"Which one do y' want, Charlie?"

Charlie looked them over and chose a rather expensive one. "This one is foine, Syd, but it costs a lot."

"That don't matter. Come 'ere." Charlie followed his brother over to the counter where Syd paid for his rod and reel. The he said to the proprietor of the hardware store, "Me brother jus' bought some paint, 'ere, on credit. "E wants this, too."

"Certainly." The store owner turned to Charlie. "Put this on your tab, too?" Charlie nodded uncertainly.

"Can y' jus' wroite it up as if it's another can o' paint?" said Syd.

"Certainly, it's about the same price...but why?"

"'E don't want th' woife t' know..." smiled Syd, winking. The proprietor smiled and nodded back.

Charlie somehow hadn't thought of playing a little game like that. No wonder Phyllis didn't like Syd...

Charlie and Syd stopped at the general store where Charlie bought some food on credit, enough for a picnic lunch while they would be fishing. Charlie also put on their bill a large bouquet of flowers for a peace offering to Phyllis when he came back late. Syd decided he had better buy flowers for Mabel too so he could head off trouble.

The boys went to a spot on the edge of the small lake where they knew the fishing was good this time of year. They sat and talked for a while as they fished and ate their lunches.

Charlie's older brother bore little physical resemblance to his younger sibling. Syd was heftier, slightly taller than Charlie and had straight brown hair and blue eyes. He wore a larger moustache and any resemblance to his brother was only evident in his actions and facial expressions.

The breezy, warm afternoon gently wore on. Syd and Charlie just sat in silence for a long time, enjoying their short lived freedom. Their pails were full of fish. Charlie thought that might be a peace offering for Phyllis too, showing that he hadn't been idle.

"Syd," said Charlie, "Let's go 'ome. I still 'ave t' paint the garridge."

"A'roigh', Charlie, lemme droive the motorcar 'ome , please," said Syd.

"Y' can't," said Charlie, after thinking about it for a moment.

"Why not?" asked Syd.

"Phyllis said if she evah catches me lettin' yer droive in 'er motorcar, she'll kill me twoice over."

"That don't make no sense, Charlie. She can't kill yer twoice..."

"Yer don't know Phyllis. Y' know she don't loike yer. I ge' killed once fer mese'f and once fer yer..."

The boys put their buckets of fish in the Model T, along with the paint buckets, flower bouquets and fishing rods. Then Syd sat down and Charlie cranked the car's motor, rewarded by a putt-putt sound and the chassis shaking gently. He then sat in the driver's seat and off they went. Charlie drove slowly and took a longer route, along the lakeside, delaying the inevitable battle with Phyllis as long as possible.

They approached a steep hill and Charlie tried to coax the car on, but it just refused to take the hill. "It don't 'ave the power t' tyke this 'ill, Syd." He jumped out of the car and looked under the hood. "Ain't nothin' wrong under the bonnet wha' I c'n see, Syd..."

Syd scratched his head. "Then we'll 'ave t' _push_ it 'ome. It ain't far..." said Syd.

They started to push the car up the dusty road but the car wouldn't go very fast. It barely moved, no matter how hard they pushed and every inch was a torturous effort. Syd and Charlie weren't accomplishing anything except just getting themselves very hot and sweaty.

Syd wiped his face with his handkerchief. "I wonder why this bloody motorcar is so 'ard t' move."

"Yer think it moigh' push betta if I took off the brake?"

"Bloimey, Charlie, yer brilliant!" said Syd.

With the brake off, the car was much easier to push...relatively speaking, that is. With a lot of effort, groaning and sighing, they finally got the Model T to the top of the hill. They stopped to sit down a moment and get their breath.

"We 'ad a grand afte'noon, Syd," said Charlie. "Y' know tha' I stood up t' Phyllis this morning and told 'er tha' I was goin' fishin' with yer."

"Yer oughta do tha' more often, Charlie. I'm the man o' the 'ouse in me own plyce an' Mabel listens t' me!"

"Yeah, I'm bloody well going t' stand up t' Phyllis, all th' toime now!"

"Good chap, Charlie."

The brothers kept talking. Suddenly there was a loud squealing noise and a clatter, and Syd and Charlie both looked over at the Model T...that is, to the place where the Model T had been a moment before. Charlie hadn't put the brake back on and the car had started down the other side of the hill by itself. The car picked up speed as the boys took off after it, but soon it was quite a bit ahead of them.

The road took a sudden turn, but the car didn't. Instead, it left the road, crossed the grass embankment and hit a rather large boulder. Because it was going so fast, when it hit the boulder, it flew up in the air, over the boulder and went into the lake. The brothers arrived just as it was starting to sink.

They both watched in dismay as the automobile slowly sank and bubbles came up from its watery grave. They only thing they could rescue were the two bedraggled and somewhat wilted bunches of flowers they had purchased earlier for their wives. The flowers were floating on top of the water.


	3. The Explanation

After the car had disappeared beneath the water, Syd said, "Ow are y' plannin' t' talk yer way outa this one?"

"Syd, I c'n talk me way outa anythin'."

"Oh, indeed!" said his brother. "Mybe I should stay abou' an' 'ear wha' yer plannin' t' sye t' Phyllis. Then I c'n use it on Mabel some toime."

"No, Phyllis don't loike yer, r'member? She thinks y' ge' me into trouble."

Syd laughed. "I think it's the other wye around, Charlie... I didn't drown me woife's motorcar..."

"Yeah," said Charlie, a bit sadly. "I loiked tha' flivver betta than I do Phyllis, t' tell th' truth. Tha' car don't talk back..."

The brothers walked home in silence, each thinking of what he would tell his wife, with Syd feeling rather sorry for his little brother. Charlie was going to have to talk all night to get out of this one.

Charlie arrived home with his sad looking bouquet of flowers. He didn't go in immediately. He sat on the porch steps and tried to think of what he was going to say. He was just going over some scenarios when the door opened and Phyllis stepped out. Charlie jumped up off the step in surprise and turned around quickly to face her. He put the flowers behind his back.

"All right, mister, where have you been?"

"I done loike y' said, me lov'ly, I went shoppin' so I could paint th' garridge."

"So where is the paint?"

"As I was comin' back out, I put th' paint in th' car. Then I went back t' buy this." He shoved the sad-looking bouquet at her. She took it, frowning a bit.

"Come inside, Charlie. Sit down and tell me the rest of what happened. Where is the paint?"

"I 'ad pu' it in th' Model T, loike I said. When I came out after buyin' these, the car was gone."

Phyllis jumped up in alarm. "What! My beautiful automobile was stolen? Charlie, how could you be so careless?" She started to cry.

Charlie was taken aback. He had never seen her cry before. He had thought she didn't know how. It made him feel bad for lying. But he was in too deeply. Now he couldn't admit what really happened.

"We'll get another motorcar fer y', swee''eart," he said. He put his arm around her and hugged her comfortingly. He hadn't ever seen this tender side of her before, even if it was just tender feelings for the Model T.

"We don't have that kind of money, Charlie. Surely you know that!" Suddenly she looked up, wiped her tears from her face and stared at him. "Something doesn't make sense, Charlie.

"Wha' is it, me li'tle 'oney dove?"

"You bought flowers at the hardware store?"

"Ummm...yeah. They was 'avin' a sale..." Phyllis gave him an odd look and frowned again.

"How long did it take you to buy the paint?"

"Not long."

"So did you go to the police about the stolen car?"

"Ummm, I guess I fergot..." His story was falling apart. "I follered them crooks, Phyllis..."

"On foot?" she queried. "Oh and how many of them did you say there were?"

"They drove awye too fast. I couldn't count 'em. An' I couldn't run after 'em fast enough..."

"I see. And what time was this?"

"Dunno. I los' me pocket watch..."

"Oh? So what's on the end of that chain in your pocket?"

Charlie pulled out the watch as if he had just found it. He grinned guiltily. "Oh, 'ere it is!"

"Charlie, your story has more holes in it than your head. So why did it take you so long to come home?"

"I go' lost, Phyllis."

"Oh?" She gave him a sceptical look. She didn't believe a word of his story.

She narrowed her eyes. She would get the truth out of him if she had to give him the third degree.

"Tell me, Charlie, did you meet anyone on the street besides the villains who stole my car?

"No, there weren't nobody..."

"And who was in the hardware store when you bought the paint?"

"The pr'prietor what sold it t' me."

"Anyone else?"

"It was th' funniest thing...as I was leavin', I bumped into Syd comin' in..." As soon as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"Aha! Syd was in on this too! I might have known! Tell me, did you two go fishing this afternoon?"

"Yeah," said Charlie. He was starting to feel defeated.

"Where was the car while you were fishing?"

"I tole y', Phyllis, the car was stole..." Charlie was getting sick of the cross-examination. He got up and went out the front door, slamming it.

Phyllis knew she had been hard on him, but she needed to get at the truth. Charlie never told the truth after he had done something atrocious. She decided to try another tack and be nice to him.

Phyllis came back outside. Charlie was sitting on the step smoking. She sat down on the step beside him and put her arm around his shoulder. "Charlie, what do you say that Monday morning you ask off of work and we'll both go down to the police station and tell them the story."

"I'll take care o' tha' mese'f, Phyllis. After all, I _am_ th' man o' the 'ouse." He sounded sulky.

"All right, honey. You take care of that." She kissed him softly and rubbed his shoulders. Now he was feeling very guilty. After all, that car _was _her pride and joy. He kissed her back and breathed a sigh of relief. She was calming down and being sensible. At least she would never find out what happened to the car...he hoped. And he had until Monday morning to find a way to wiggle out of going to the police station to tell his fabricated story.

On Sunday afternoon, after the embarrassment (for Phyllis) of having to _walk_ back and forth to church instead of driving her car, and having told everyone about the horror she went through when she found out her car was stolen and some criminals had been driving it, Charlie went outside and sat on the steps outside the church. Syd came up and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Did y' confess yet, Charlie?"

"I ain't plannin' t' confess. I tole 'er the car go' stole. When they foind it in th' lyke, we jus' sye them thieves ran it in th' water."

"Wonder when they'll foind it..."

Charlie smiled. "Mybe we should 'elp 'em along..."


	4. The Tin Lizzie is Found

On the Monday afternoon following, an anonymous tip was called into the police station in the little town. The officer on duty took down the information and before he had a chance to ask any more questions, the mysterious caller hung up. "Hey Bill, listen to this..." he called to a fellow officer. A young light-haired man came over to the desk.

"What is it, Tim?" he asked of the officer on duty.

"A tip was just phoned in to me. Seems there was a car stolen Saturday last and the caller seemed to know where it is."

"There wasn't any report of a car stolen, was there?"

"No, not officially..."

"So who would call in a tip on a non-existent crime?"

"Well, I know who it was...it's either Charlie or Syd, the two brothers who work over at the brick layers."

"How do you know it was one of them?"

"Have you heard either of them talk? They're limeys... you can't mistake their accents."

"Which one is it then?"

"I'm not positive, but I think it was Charlie. His wife Phyllis was telling everyone at church that her car was stolen. I was about to send someone to talk to her officially this afternoon and find out what the circumstances were, but Bill,...get this...Phyllis was concerned that the criminals might have gotten the car dirty!"

Officer Bill laughed. So what else did Charlie say?

"He says he saw the criminals drive it into the water and then jump out at the last minute and run away. He told me exactly where it went down. When I asked him to describe the perpetrators, he mumbled something about it was too far away to see them and then he hung up!" Officer Tim laughed.

"Well, maybe he _was_ too far away..."

"Maybe. I am going to send someone over there...he told me exactly where...we'll see if there _is_ a car to be pulled out of the water..."

* * *

><p>Phyllis was still dreadfully upset over the loss of her car. Charlie was being evasive. He said he would report the incident to the police later, but he left for work on Monday morning abruptly, and she had no chance to talk to him about it.<p>

Later that afternoon, Phyllis got a call from the police.

"I understand your car was stolen on Saturday...is that correct?"

"Yes, Officer. But how did you know...did my husband report it?"

"In a manner of speaking...the thing is...we've recovered the car. It's parked near the lake." The officer gave her the exact location.

Phyllis was elated! She practically ran to the location the officer told her about to claim the car. When she arrived, she was almost sorry. She nearly didn't recognize her formerly beautiful, shiny Model T. There was white paint all over the back seats where one of the paint cans had opened. The whole car was waterlogged. The fenders were badly dented and scratched. The windshield was broken, the front tires were flat and there were various dead fish and pieces of vegetation on the floor. The leather seats in the front sported a large rip. There was mud, horrible thick mud all over the outside and inside of the car...and it smelled like mould and dead fish.

"This is terrible," screamed Phyllis.

The man who had dredged up the car said, "So I take it that this is your automobile, Ma'am?"

"Yes," said Phyllis, through her tears.

"Then you're the one I give this bill to..." He handed her a piece of paper.

"What? For what?"

"I pulled the car out of the water, Ma'am. It ain't cheap."

"This is highway robbery! I don't have that kind of money."

"You want your car back, you pay the money."

Phyllis reluctantly paid the bill. She looked at her sad looking Model T. She didn't even want to try to start the car. She didn't want to sit on the ripped wet seats, either. She walked to the garage and asked them to tow the car and give it a complete overhaul.

Then Phyllis went home. She called Mabel to commiserate.

"Mabel, can you come over and just talk to me? Help me decide what to do...I'm very upset."

Mabel walked over to her sister-in-law's house. "I took a look at the car when I passed the garage. Oh Phyllis, it's in bad shape!"

"I know," said Phyllis, tearfully. "I'm going to file a criminal complaint...they must be out-of-towners...no one in this town would dare to steal my car!"

"Someone stole the car?" asked Mabel, puzzled.

"Yes...and they ran it into the lake, that's why it's such a mess..."

"Phyllis, no one stole the car."

"Well, then how did it end up in the lake, Mabel?"

"Charlie forgot to put the brakes on and it went flying down a hill, hit a boulder and went into the lake."

"What? Who told you that?"

"Why Syd, of course."

"Why that careless, lying little tramp..."

"Phyllis, don't be so hard on him. He couldn't possibly have done it on purpose..."

"No, just another of his clumsy accidents. He is the clumsiest man I have ever seen! Just last Saturday he fell off a ladder and into a barrel of water! Can you imagine?"

"Yes, I can. I've seen him do amazing feats of clumsiness. But really, it could have happened to anyone, Phyllis...anyone could have forgotten to set the brake..."

Phyllis sighed. "But he didn't have to lie to me, Mabel. That's the worst part of it."

Mabel smiled. "Just don't be so hard on him; I think he has a good heart. He's not mean. Things just happen to him and he doesn't want to own up to it because you are so hard on him."

"Pish, Mabel, you're wrong. He's just a worthless, lazy little tramp. He would rather spend his time in frivolous pursuits all the time. I can't trust him with any money; he'll either use it to go drinking with his friends or he'll buy something equally as foolish. I seriously am going to make him sorry he ruined my car!" She started sobbing again.

Mabel put her arm around Phyllis comfortingly. "Calm down, Phyllis. The car will be as good as new when the garage is through with it. I'll talk to you later, Phyllis. I have to go now...let me know what happens."


	5. Is it the Truth or Is it a Lie?

Charlie came home after work, whistling. His anonymous call to the police must have done the trick. He had stopped at the garage and enquired about the car. The mechanic showed him the damage and told him how much it would cost. It was quite expensive, but better than buying a new car. And in addition, Phyllis would never have to know what really happened. He would tell her he had contacted the police, which was true, and that they would be searching for the criminals.

He came in the house and saw Phyllis sitting at the dining room table, drumming her fingers on the wooden table top, her eyebrows raised, looking down her nose at him. He knew right then and there, he was in for it. He smiled at Phyllis, who thought he looked a bit guilty.

The thought of kissing her when she was in this type of mood was not particularly to his liking, but he did it anyway. "'Ow are y' this afte'noon, me lov'ly?"

"I'm just fine, Charlie...just fine." There was a rolling pin sitting next to her on the table and she was toying with in, rolling it about with her fingers, glancing up occasionally at Charlie.

"I see they foun' yer motorcar..." Charlie took off his hat and coat and hung them in the closet with his cane.

"Yes, they did and it looks...well...indescribable. Did you happen to stop by the garage tonight to take a look at it?"

"Yeah, I did. Looks bloody awful." He wondered why the table wasn't set for supper yet. He didn't even smell anything cooking. He sat down across from her and smiled, innocently, he hoped. "I'm turribly 'ungry, Phyllis. When's supper?"

Phyllis tapped her fingers again for a moment on the table and looked down at them. After a moment's silence, she smiled, menacingly. "Charlie, my dear, I want to hear the truth about my car. And I want to hear it NOW!"

"I tole y' th' truth b'fore, Phyllis. Them two thieves stole it when I was comin' outa th' general store. They musta dove it direc'ly into th' lyke."

"You told me you didn't know how many thieves there were."

"I jus' r'membered."

"And you said you were coming out of the hardware store, not the general store. Which is it?"

"It was the 'ardware store, Phyllis. Later I bought them flowers at the general store..."

"That's not what you said before. Are you sure you aren't making up this whole story, Charlie?"

"No, it's th' hones' truth!"

"The honest truth?" Phyllis picked up her rolling pin and advanced on him menacingly. He jumped up from the chair and she backed him up against the wall."Why you filthy little liar!"

"Phyllis, 'oney, wha'd I do?"

"You ran my car into the lake and then lied about it! You ruined my car and cost us a lot of money...and you couldn't even be honest about it!"

"Bu' Phyllis..."

"Don't give me any of your guff, Charlie!"

He reached behind him and found the knob of the door and opened it, turned and fled down the street, running unbelievably fast in his very weird gait.

"And don't come home until you can tell the truth!" she screamed after him.

Charlie ran quite a distance after being chased out of his own house by Phyllis. He slowed down to a walk. He put his hands in his pockets and his head down. He looked and felt dejected. He found himself in the park and sat down at a bench. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Once Phyllis got in a snit, it took her a long time to get over it. He was a bit angry with himself for not standing up to her, but she had taken him by surprise. He should have been more wary.

And perhaps he shouldn't have lied to her about the car, but she would have been angry anyway. He tended to lie to her because he was afraid of her wrath. He put out the cigarette and started to walk. He had nowhere particular to go except Syd's house. Maybe if he stayed there a few hours, Phyllis would cool down and let him back in the house.

Charlie knocked on Syd's door and his brother answered. "Come in, Charlie... "

"Syd, I'm starvin'...'ave y' some thin' t' eat in the 'ouse?"

"I sye, Charlie, ain't Phyllis feedin' y' no more?"

"She threw me out."

"I c'n guess why."

Charlie told him in detail what had ensued to provoke Phyllis into throwing him out..

"Charlie, Mabel's gone to 'er mother's plyce...outa town. Why don't y' stye wi' me till Phyllis lets y' back 'ome. 'Least until Mabel comes back. We'll 'ave the 'ouse t' ourselves..."

"Mybe, Syd. I don't 'ave no other plyce t' go..."

"I 'ad beef stew t'noigh'...'elp y'self. Plenty lef'...still on the stove keepin' warm."

Charlie had several helpings and then Syd brought out two large bottles of something. "Wha's tha'?" asked Charlie.

"T' cel'brate Mabel being gone, an' don' ge' me wrong, I love me woife, it's jus' tha' she gets in the wye some toimes..."

"Wha' is it?" asked Charlie again.

"'Ome-made...y' know Jim?...well, 'e d'cided t' myke some illegal spirits...and 'e's sellin' it outa 'is cellar..."

"Ain't that interestin'," said Charlie. "Are y' gonna troy makin' it too?"

"Nah. Mabel'd foind out an' I'd be in fer it. But this ain't 'ard t' 'oide..." replied Syd. "Thought y' moigh' loike t' troy it out wi' me, Charlie."

"Yeah, Syd."

Syd poured the liquor carefully into two shot glasses. Charlie tried it, then coughed and blinked his eyes several times.

"Too strong?" asked Syd.

"No, it's perfec, Syd, jus' perfec'..." he said, still coughing and holding his throat. He drank the rest of the shot, then held out the glass and nodded to Syd to refill it, unable to speak momentarily. The second shot seemed a lot better than the first.

Both the boys had several more shots of the illegal drink and when it became just a little difficult to aim the liquor directly into the tiny shot glasses, they graduated to drinking out of the bottles.

"Syd," said Charlie.

"Yeah?"

"I think Phyllis don't love me no more."

"Why would y' sye tha?" asked Syd.

"She a'most beat me abou' the 'ead wi' a bowlin' pin t'noigh'. Lucky I got awye..."

"A bowlin' pin? Where'd she ge' a bowlin' pin'?"

"I dunno. She uses it when she bakes a poie."

"Oh." Syd was quiet for a moment. "She's always beatin' y' abou' the 'ead wi' somethin', Charlie. Don't mean she don't love y' no more."

"Didja see 'er motorcar, Syd?"

"No, I ain't seen it. Where is it?"

"At the garridge. They're fixin' it. There was dead fish in it!"

"Tha' oughta smell foine!" said Syd. At this they both started to laugh.

"Y'know, Syd, I should droive Phyllis' car 'ome. They mus' be finished with it at the garridge..."

"Y' think y' c'n droive it 'ome, Charlie? Y' seem jus' the sloightest bit tipsy...Mybe I should go with y' an' droive it."

Charlie got up unsteadily. "No, Syd, Phyllis don't loike y' t' droive it." He went to the closet and put on Syd's hat. It was too big for him and kept falling down on his face. He shoved it back further on his head.

"Which wye is th' garridge, Syd?"

"Y' go out th' door and turn. It's either right or lef', Charlie. Tyke yer pick..."

"I can't d'cide..." said Charlie. Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Yer expectin' anyone, Charlie?"

"Is this yer 'ouse or moine, Syd?" He was still fiddling with the derby, trying to get it to sit correctly on his head.

"It's moine, Charlie."

"Then I ain't expectin' no one." The rapping came again, this time more insistently. "Mybe I better ge' it anywye..." said Charlie.

"Go a'ead, open th' door, Charlie."

Charlie opened the door to ….the preacher, Rev. Williams.

A bit surprised, Charlie tipped his hat. "Good mornin' Rev'rend, Sir," he said politely. He was holding on to the door and was swaying back and forth a bit with it.

Syd had quickly hidden the bottles of illegal drink.

The preacher, a stocky middle-aged man with greying hair and a black frock coat, looked first at Charlie, then at Syd.

"Syd, where is Mabel?" he asked. "I wanted to talk to her about a fund raiser for the church."

"She went t' see 'er mother, Sir." Syd looked suddenly sober.

"I see." Rev Williams looked again at Charlie. Syd's derby kept falling over Charlie's eyes. "Where are you going, dressed like that, Charlie?"

"I'm goin' 'ome t' me woife..."

"Do you want a ride home, Charlie?"

"C'n I droive yer car?"

"Certainly not!"

"Then I don't wanna go 'ome."

"Syd, just tell Mabel I'd like to talk to her when she comes back," said the preacher. "I should be going." He gave Charlie another sceptical look. "By the way, Charlie, it's evening, not morning..."

Charlie tipped Syd's hat. "Thank y' koindly, Rev'rend Sir."

Then Rev. Williams took his leave.

Charlie turned around. Syd was still sitting on the divan. Charlie sat down next to him, the derby still on his head. He pushed the hat back off of his forehead.

"Syd, y' look loike y' need a drink..." He handed his brother one of the bottles. Syd nodded his head.

"An' I need one too..."

After a bit, Charlie said, "Syd, I need t' go 'ome."

"Give the ol' battle-axe a kiss fer me..." said Syd.

"Phyllis ain't no battle-axe, Syd!" said Charlie, in indignation. Then he thought a minute. "Oh yeah, she is..."

Charlie left his brother's house and stumbled down the street. The garage where the Model T was being worked on was in the next block. He arrived just as the mechanic was closing the doors.

"Good mornin', Sir," said Charlie, tipping Syd's hat. "I come fer me woife's motorcar. Is it finished?"

"Hi, Charlie. It's evening, you know. I'm Fred, remember? Your wife's car is finished, but she is picking it up herself tomorrow morning. She said not to let you drive it under any circumstances. What happened to the car anyway?"

"It drove itself into the lyke, Fred."

"It drove itself?" asked Fred skeptically.

"Yeah; I seen it wi' me own eyes," he said, pushing Syd's hat back out of his eyes again."

"I see," said Fred sceptically. "Would you like a ride? I'm just going home and your house is on the way...and you look a bit worse for wear..."

"C'n I droive yer motorcar?"

"No, Charlie."

"Okay. Then I sh'll foind me own wye 'ome, thank y' koindly. Which wye is it?"

Fred pointed Charlie in the correct direction, but he got lost anyway. He walked past his house and ended up in the park again and couldn't remember which way he should go. He sat down on a park bench. As soon as he sat down, he started to nod off.

The constable, Officer Mike Shanahan, was making his rounds through the park. He knew most of the people who lived in the little town. Charlie was a strange little man who always seemed to get himself in trouble. He poked Charlie gently.

"Charlie, what are you doin' sleepin' out here in the park?"

Charlie rubbed his eyes. "I ain't sleepin'. And me woife threw me out, Constable."

"Don't you have anywhere else to go?"

"Was at me brother's 'ouse an' I was goin' 'ome...where am I? I know it ain't 'ome...too quiet..."

"In the park, Charlie. You've been drinkin' something illegal, haven't you?"

"No."

"Come on, Charlie, you know and I know you're drunk; where did you get it?"

"I don't r'member, Constable."

Officer Shanahan, a kindly fellow, knew that Charlie and Phyllis fought all the time. Everyone knew that.

"Look, Charlie. I should really lock you up tonight. But I'll give you a choice. Go home to Phyllis and I won't take you to jail."

Charlie took a while to think about it. Jail didn't seem too bad when faced with the choice of going back to Phyllis. But he knew he'd have to face her at some point. Might as well be now. "I'll go 'ome," sighed Charlie. He wondered what horrendous fate was waiting for him at home.


	6. A  Change of Pace

The constable drove Charlie home in the police vehicle. He knocked at the door.

Phyllis shouted, "If that's you, Charlie, go away!"

"Ma'am, come to the door, please, it's the police," said the constable.

Phyllis opened the door a crack and saw Officer Shanahan. "Yes?"

"I've brought Charlie home, Phyllis."

"What's he done now?"

"Nothing serious, Phyllis. Just sleepin' in the park."

"I...I...don't want him back."

"Ma'am, it's either this or I'll have to take him to jail."

"Just take him to jail."

"Look, Ma'am..."

"Phyllis, please take me back," said Charlie. He could see her thinking it over.

"All right. Come in, Charlie. Thank you, Constable."

Charlie went in the house and closed the door. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but he wasn't in a jolly mood any more.

"Just look at you, Charlie. You're drunk again."

"It's wearin' off...unfortunately..."

He took off Syd's hat and placed it on the table. "I'm goin' t' bed. Bu' b'fore I do, I wanna ge' one thing straight." He paused and blinked his eyes a few times.

"Well, go on," said Phyllis. "I want to hear what words of wisdom you are going to say.."

"It jus' so 'appens tha'... I don't r'member none o' them words at th' moment, but y'll ge' a ear full t'morra! I'll be givin' yer a piece o' me moind!"

"Charlie, if you gave me a piece of your mind, you wouldn't have any left. Now get your sorry self to bed."

"Phyllis, y' can't talk t' me tha' wye; I'm the man o' th' 'ouse!" He turned and walked right into the closed bedroom door. He opened it and slammed it hard. Then he went to bed.

* * *

><p>Charlie woke up late the next day. He had just enough time to get to work. He dressed quickly and noticed that Phyllis' bed on the other side of the room hadn't been slept in. He wondered where she was. In addition to his headache and nausea from the strong, home-made liquor, he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was very wrong. He didn't have time to think about it, though and he hurried to work.<p>

Because Phyllis hadn't been home to make him lunch and he hadn't had time to make it himself, Charlie had nothing with him to eat. Earlier, he hadn't had time for breakfast either. By lunch time he found himself very hungry. He sat on the bench with the other workers as they ate their lunches. He first put his elbow on his leg. Then he put the other elbow on his other leg. Then he scratched his head. Then he twiddled his thumbs. Then he noticed there was a stray thread on his vest. He started to pull it to tear it off so as to prevent further ravelling. He kept pulling, but it wouldn't stop coming. He kept looking at his vest to see where it was coming from. Finally the thread pulled tight. Charlie pulled on it some more to find the end. Then he heard, "ahem…." and slowly looked up. The thread was coming from his neighbor on the bench. It was from the other man's vest, and Charlie had unravelled most of one of the seams. He gave the man a guilty smile, said "Sorry," softly and turned his face away.

Charlie looked at the man next to him on the other side. This man had a lunch bucket full of food; it looked like much more than the man could eat at one meal. Among the items were several sandwiches wrapped in waxed paper and some fruit. He had a cup of coffee that he had placed on the bench between himself and Charlie. Charlie eyed the coffee, which was on his left side. He reached behind the man and touched him on the back of his left arm. The man turned to the person to his left and said, "What do you want?"

The other man shrugged as Charlie drank the coffee and replaced the cup swiftly. He touched the man's left arm again, and as the man angrily said, "I asked you what you wanted!", Charlie pinched a banana and a wrapped sandwich from the lunch bucket. He unwrapped the sandwich and began to eat nonchalantly. The man didn't even notice his food was gone, but he picked up the coffee cup, tried to drink out of it and looked at it strangely when he realized there was no more coffee.

Soon the lunch hour was over and the men went back to work. After work, Charlie wondered where Phyllis had gone this morning past. Expecting to find her back, he opened the door and called her name, but there was no reply. She was still gone. He looked in every room, no Phyllis. Then he spied a piece of paper on the mantle. He opened it up. In Phyllis' handwriting, it read:

_Charlie, I've gone to stay with my mother. I've had just enough of your laziness, your lying, your drinking and your general bad behaviour! While I am gone, I am expecting to get a letter from you each week, sent in care of my mother – you have her address – with your week's pay enclosed. You will need food and wood for the stove and the fireplace, ice for the icebox, and possibly other supplies, just put it on our tab. I will pay the bill by mail at the end of the month...and Charlie, I will check it very carefully! But if I don't receive your pay cheque every week, promptly, it won't bode well for you!_

_I will not be returning until you can promise to behave. And stay away from Syd!_

_Your loving wife, Phyllis_

Charlie looked up from reading the letter with a smile on his face. He started jumping about the room, laughing and dancing. He jumped on the table top and down again and did cartwheels! He hadn't been so happy in ages! Phyllis was gone for a while and he would be away from her prying eyes!

Charlie didn't mind cooking. Before being married, he had a job at one time as a cook in a restaurant and he was actually a better cook than Phyllis, whose cooking no one would write home about. Since he would be living alone, there was no one to clean up after him, so he decided to try to keep the place looking nice. He cleaned up carefully and washed the dishes himself. When Phyllis did come home, the place would look nice and maybe she would realize he wasn't lazy and worthless after all.

He started to think about how he could keep more money for himself. After all, he was the one who worked hard for the money and he deserved to keep some of it. He thought about it and then he snapped his fingers. He had a plan!

The following pay day, Charlie was given his pay and he went home after work. There was no need to hide any money from Phyllis now. He sat down and wrote her a letter:

_Dear Phyllis:_

_I have enclose the money from me las pay cheque. It is short a bit becuse I ben layed off me job a cuple days evry week. Things aint goin so well at the bricklayers, so fer the summer some of us is bein layed off and takin short pay. I ope you unerstand, me little dove._

_Love and regards, Charlie_

Charlie enclosed one half of his normal weekly pay, licked the stamp and sealed the envelope. He kissed the envelope before he put it in the post box and smiled.


	7. Charlie's New Situation

The following day was Saturday and Charlie awoke early. He really felt like doing some chores about the house because he wasn't being _told _that he _had_ to do them and he could take off any time he wished. He found himself whistling and dancing a bit. He had noticed another leak in the roof and got out the ladder to investigate. There was just a small hole and he patched it quickly. Then he went up the roof to investigate another spot. As he walked on the roof, his foot hit one of the other wooden patches and he lost his balance. He slid down the roof and with his hands, caught and held onto the wooden patch that he had just put over the other hole.

The patch started ripping off and he looked for the ladder, which was just to the left of his foot. He desperately grabbed onto it with his foot and held on to the eaves of the house, inching his way over. Finally he was safely on the ladder. He looked at the patch and added a few more nails. He looked over at the other roof spot that he had seen earlier and saw that it was just a dark spot, so he left it. He started whistling again as he descended the ladder.

He picked up the ladder and was walking it over to put it in the shed when he heard a voice. It was Syd.

"Charlie, are y' comin' fishin' wi' me t'dye?"

"Mybe later, Syd. I still need t' paint th' garridge."

"Why don't y' jus' sneak awye, Charlie?"

Charlie smiled. "Phyllis ain't 'ere, Syd. So she ain't naggin' me to do it. But I d'cided t' do it anyway mese'f. I'm gonna tyke the wheel burrow over t' the 'ardware store an' buy more paint."

"Ain't it easier t' tyke the Model T?"

"Yeah, bu' Phyllis 'as tha' wit 'er. She's styin' wit' 'er mother."

Charlie picked up the ladder again. Just then a cat, followed by a dog, ran by him lickety-split. Charlie turned to watch them and smashed the end of the ladder into the window of the garage, breaking it into myriad pieces.

"I guess I'm buyin' some glass too, Syd..."

Syd helped his brother carry the glass and paint back to the house and they made short work of fixing and painting the garage. Then they took the afternoon off to go fishing again. It was wonderful not to have to worry about his wife asking where he'd been all afternoon. They stayed into the evening and walked home.

* * *

><p>A few days later, Charlie received a phone call from Phyllis. "What's this about you being laid off at the brick layer's?" she asked.<p>

"Loike I wrote t' y', 'oney dove, work is slow thi' summer..."

"Yes, it's just the strangest thing. I received a call from someone there who said he is your boss and just wanted to tell me that you're going to take short pay the rest of the summer. I didn't believe you when I read your letter to me, but for once you are telling the truth. We'll just have to cut down a bit until you find a second job, Charlie."

"Yeah, I'm workin' 'ard on that, me lov'ly."

After she hung up, Charlie had the operator ring Syd. "Syd, I jus' go' a call from Phyllis. Thanks again fer 'elpin' me out wi' th' phone call to 'er, sayin' I been layed off... Phyllis b'lieved ev'ry word! I never knew y' could do such a good Amer'can accent! Good chap!"

* * *

><p>The summer days went by peaceably for Charlie and he enjoyed not being under Phyllis' thumb all the time. He worked in the garden and Phyllis' flowers looked better than when she had tended them herself. He cleaned the house and kept it looking nice; one might almost think he had become a responsible citizen. He still found time to occasionally have a night out on the town with his friends. He enjoyed having a nice home without Phyllis directing his every move. Before marrying Phyllis, Charlie had always been on his own, but he usually lived in abject poverty and found it hard to keep a job. He had now kept this job at the bricklayers for over five years, a long time for the former tramp.<p>

One day he rescued a small fox terrier pup that was wandering about his property. He took it in, cleaned it up and they became fast friends. He named her "Cookie." Now he had a little company again, but this one didn't bark back! She slept on his bed, at his feet.

Charlie still sent Phyllis money, and for once she believed his little ruse, thanks to Syd. He saved some of the money and actually put it away, something he had never had the luxury of doing before. Phyllis still sent him letters and he replied politely. He was beginning to think this was a good arrangement. He could deal with Phyllis if she were two hundred miles away.


	8. She Never Changes

Phyllis, however, was getting restless. She wanted to be back at her own home and her resolve about not coming back until Charlie could behave himself was starting to crumble. Certainly, he had written letters saying all the wonderful things he had done about the house, but surely they were all lies. Still, Phyllis' mother tended to be a bit overbearing, and Phyllis wanted to get away from that too.

One day Phyllis decided to go home. She bade her mother goodbye and headed for home in the Model T. She had missed having Charlie wash and wax it every week; she had had to pay some boys to do it and they never did a good job.

She wondered what kind of mess she would come home to. Surely the place would be a disaster and Charlie would most likely be drunk. It had probably been a huge mistake to leave him alone in the house.

She pulled up into the garage and noted that it had been freshly painted. The windows were shiny and clean too. She walked over to the house and noted that it looked better than it ever had before. Her garden, too, was thriving. Charlie must have hired someone to do it for him. He was much too lazy and incompetent to make the garden look this beautiful.

She opened the door and heard music, violin music. She frowned, puzzled. Charlie was in the living room when she came in. He was playing a violin. His back was to her and he didn't hear her because he was too engrossed in what he was doing.

When he stopped playing the music, which was a classical piece, Phyllis just stood there in amazement.

Finally he turned around and almost dropped the violin, his surprise was so great.

"Phyllis, I didn't 'ear y' come in..."

"I didn't know you could play the violin...it sounds...wonderful...where did you learn that?"

"I always knowed 'ow t' play...I taught mese'f when I was a lad..."

"Why didn't you ever play it before? I didn't even know you had a violin..."

"Syd gave it to me...no strings attached...'e go' it at the pawn shop...fer a song..."

The puns completely bypassed Phyllis. "Well, it was very lovely." She paused. "The house looks very nice, Charlie. Did you hire someone to do that? That's a real luxury we can't afford, you know. We can barely afford anything now that you are on short pay..."

"Phyllis, I done it all mese'f. Well, Syd gave me a 'and on occasion wi' paintin' an' such..."

"Well, that's hard to believe." She had learned never to take Charlie's word as the absolute truth. "Charlie, come with me out to the car, there's a few things you can help me carry."

Charlie followed her out to the Model T. There were stacks of boxes, bags and several suitcases in the back seat. There was a trunk too.

Phyllis gave Charlie a large, heavy flat box to carry and then piled up several boxes and bags on top of it. She topped off the stack with two hat boxes, in front of Charlie's face and over his head. She took one tiny box and bade him follow her into the house.

"Phyllis, where are y'? I can't see where I'm goin'..."

"Oh pish, Charlie, just follow me, come on, hurry up."

Charlie peeked out between the boxes as best he could, but he stumbled on the front steps and everything went flying.

"Charlie!" said Phyllis. "Those are my new clothes! Can't you be careful? You're so clumsy!"

Charlie sighed and brought the things into the house. "Bring the trunk in, Charlie and hurry up...I want you to hang up my clothes too and put my things away, while I make supper."

Charlie started experiencing that tightening feeling in the bottom of his stomach. "I 'ave dinner already cookin' in th' kitchen, Phyllis. It's in th' oven."

"Oh?" she said in surprise. "When did you learn to cook?"

"I always knowed 'ow t' cook, Phyllis."

With a sinking feeling, Charlie anticipated her next words. "That's wonderful! Then you can do all the cooking around here! Now go out there and get my trunk."

Charlie hoisted the trunk on his back and fell flat from the weight of it. He struggled out from under it and decided to push it instead. It took him a while, but then he arrived at the steps. He looked at the trunk and scratched his head. He opened up the trunk and removed some of the clothes and hung them up. He emptied the trunk little by little and then dragged it into the house.

"Charlie, the trunk goes in the cellar..." He sighed and dragged it outside and down the steps again, around the side of the house, and opened the horizontal wooden door. There were steps leading down into the dark storm cellar. Charlie pushed the empty trunk over to the opening and kicked it down the steps where it landed with a bit of a clatter. He closed and locked the wooden door to the cellar and came back in the house.

Then Charlie set the table for two. He brought out the soup he had made, along with baked chicken, potatoes and vegetables. Just as he was serving Phyllis, there was the sound of a dog barking outside. Charlie opened the door to Cookie. The dog jumped up excitedly and Charlie petted her.

Phyllis jumped up. "What is that _thing_ doing in my house?"

"It's a dog, Phyllis."

"I can see that it's a dog! Get it out of here!"

"Phyllis, this is Cookie. She's me dog. I was a bi' lonesome..."

"Get it out of here, Charlie!"

"Phyllis..."

"I said, get it out!"

Charlie took the dog's food and water outside to the porch and petted the small friendly pup. He put a small wooden crate with an old blanket outside for her to sleep in. "Sorry, Cookie," he said to the terrier.

Charlie was so upset that he spilled soup on Phyllis lap when he served her. He spilled the hot tea too, on the table cloth. Phyllis started in on him, yelling and ordering him about. It was the same old thing.

That night, Charlie went to bed exhausted. And these last few months, he had become used to the dog sleeping on his bed, at his feet. Poor Cookie had to sleep outside tonight. Charlie had half a mind to go and sleep outside with her on the porch, but he didn't. Things had to change, though. He wasn't going to let Phyllis boss him about any more!

The following afternoon, Charlie took Cookie to Syd's house and asked Syd and Mabel if they could look after the dog for a while until he persuaded Phyllis to let him keep her.

He was just coming back home when he saw a huge, formidable looking man enter his front door and close it behind him.

Charlie went to the front door of the house and listened, cupping his ear to hear through the door.

He heard a loud male voice say, "All right, lady, hand over all your money...and everything else ya got that's valuable. Start with the money and then fill up this bag with silverware and jewellery...come on, lady...this gun is loaded, you know!"

Charlie heard Phyllis answer, "We don't have any money; my husband has been laid off..."

"We'll talk about that later...you must have silverware and candlesticks...put it in here, lady and hurry up!"

Charlie quickly ran to the garage and grabbed a large board. He opened the door surreptitiously and walked up behind the man. Phyllis saw Charlie come in and glanced in his direction. The man noticed her glance and turned around just as Charlie raised the board to whack him on the head.

Charlie whacked him hard, but obviously not hard enough. The man didn't fall down as Charlie had expected, however, his gun was knocked out of his hand. Then he started coming after Charlie He was big and very mean looking. Charlie kicked the gun out of the way, hoping Phyllis would pick it up. She seemed frozen with fear though.

The robber looked for his gun, but Charlie had kicked it under the rug, and in the excitement, the robber came after Charlie with his bare hands. Charlie knew he couldn't take him unless he had a weapon. Where was his own gun? The robber backed Charlie against a wall, next to a cabinet with drawers. Charlie reached around behind him and felt inside the drawer for his gun. He pulled it out, but the robber was so close to him, he ripped the gun from Charlie's hand. Of course he didn't know that Charlie didn't keep the gun loaded.

The robber smiled menacingly and backed away, pointing the gun at Charlie. The man turned around to see what Phyllis was doing. She was cowering in a corner. "Get over here, lady, where I can see you. Sit down at the table!"

As the robber had his back turned, Charlie grabbed the end of the long throw rug that the man was standing on. He jerked it suddenly and the robber tumbled to the floor, on his face. Charlie stood on the man's back.

"Phyllis, throw me the clothes line what's in yer basket!" Phyllis was so stunned she didn't move for a moment. "Phyllis, NOW!" yelled Charlie. "And call the coppers!"

She finally threw the rope to Charlie as the man turned over and Charlie stumbled off his back. He just barely caught the clothes line when Phyllis threw it to him. The man was soon up on his feet again. Charlie was up in a flash and taunted the man by moving deftly out of his way, just as the robber would be ready to grab him. Charlie whipped out the clothes line, the end of which he quickly made into a lasso of sorts and roped the man about the middle, pinning his arms to his sides. He ran the rope around the man several more times. The robber struggled, but couldn't get loose. He was still on his feet though. Charlie raised a wooden chair and it splintered into pieces as he smashed the robber over the head with it. That finally knocked the big fellow out. He sank to the floor unconscious. Charlie tied the man's hands and feet with more of the clothes line and they waited in silence for the police to show up. Charlie recovered the robber's gun and kept it ready, should the man awaken before the police arrived. The cops finally came and took the man out, still tied in the clothes line and still unconscious.

One of the policemen, Officer Shanahan, who had brought Charlie home to Phyllis some months ago, said, "Charlie, that was Big Eddie Buckley...he's been robbing the citizens of several towns around here. No one's been able to catch him until now. Good work, Charlie. He's a big 'un...you did us all a favour by capturing him. Let me shake your hand!" The officer shook Charlie's hand and wrote down notes for his report. "Now perhaps we'll find out where Eddie hid all the loot...thanks to you, Charlie."

Charlie showed the constable to the door, then surveyed the living room. It was a terrible mess. The broken chair had splintered all over the floor, the table was overturned, a glass bowl had smashed along with other dishes. Charlie was still a bit in shock and he righted the table and sat down. Phyllis was still sitting at the table in silence, her arms folded.

Charlie ran his fingers through his curly black hair and realized he was shaking a bit from the ordeal. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Charlie, aren't you going to clean up this mess? Look at it...my dishes broken, the chair wrecked...where will I get another one to match the others..."

"Phyllis," Charlie interrupted her. "Shu' up!" He didn't raise his voice but he gave her a look that for the first time, made Phyllis close her mouth. She looked shocked, but she didn't say anything. She hadn't ever heard him speak like this before.

Charlie didn't feel like listening to any more nagging. He walked outside to finish his cigarette and sat on the porch step. He felt numb. He hadn't captured the robber for any praise, he was defending Phyllis and his home, but she could at least have said thank you. When he finished his cigarette, he kicked it away with a vengeance and in anger, kicked one of the wooden steps very hard for good measure, several times.

Charlie went inside and swept up the glass and the wood and cleaned up the whole place. Not another word was exchanged between Charlie and Phyllis. She went in the bedroom and closed the door.

Charlie took a long walk and ended up at Syd and Mabel's place. He was greeted by a very excited Cookie. It was good to see her. Charlie played with her a bit, then knocked on Syd's door. He ushered Charlie in.

Syd could tell by Charlie's demeanour that something bad had happened. "Did she throw yer out again, Charlie?"

"No, I jus' been on a lit'tle walk." Mabel invited Charlie for supper. Charlie accepted, but didn't want to say anything about Phyllis in front of Mabel. He knew they were friends. Syd and Mabel chatted, but Charlie was uncharacteristically quiet, almost moody.

After dinner, Syd said, "Mabel, I wan' t' show Charlie me new motorcycle."

Mabel smiled. "It's a good looking vehicle, Charlie. He insisted on buying it...I was against it, but after riding on it, well, I've changed my mind. Go take a look!"

Syd beamed and said, "Tha's me Mabel! Y' sh'd see 'er in 'er roidin' clothes, Charlie, she's th' sportiest lookin' woman in town!" He winked at Mabel and she blew him a kiss.

They entered the garage and Syd showed Charlie the vehicle. Charlie was duly impressed, but it didn't raise his spirits much.

"Charlie, wha's th' matter? Yer ain't yerse'f..."

"Phyllis, loike always." He told Syd what had happened in the last several days.

"Y' look loike y' need a drink...I go' some 'ome-made brew...

"No, Syd, thank y' koindly, bu'...I sh'll turn y' down this toime. I mus' think straight...I dunno wha' t' do..."

The brothers sat in silence for a long time. Suddenly, Mabel called to Charlie. "Charlie, Phyllis is on the phone for you..."

"Mabel, tell 'er I don't wan' t' talk t' 'er..."

Mabel said something into the phone. "Charlie, she says it's really important!"

Charlie took the candlestick phone and put the receiver to his ear. "Yes, Ma'am?" he said.

"Charlie, get back home right away."

"Why?"

"Something has come up."

"What?"

"Stop asking questions and just get your sorry behind on home!"

"Yes, Ma'am." said Charlie. He hung up the phone. He glanced at his brother.

"I'm goin' back 'ome, Syd," said Charlie. "She tole me t' come back..."

Syd nodded. He didn't like to see his little brother sad like this.


	9. Unexpected News

Charlie walked home in the waning light of the early evening. He walked slowly and dragged his feet a bit, not like his usual sprightly step. He kicked at a few stones. He had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders sagged.

When he reached home, he opened the door to find Rev. Williams sitting at the table with Phyllis. The preacher smiled. "Come in, come in, Charlie. We've been waiting for you."

Charlie sat down at the table and wondered what this was about.

"Charlie, I've waited until you came home because this is something I need to say to both of you."

"Yes, Rev'rend, Sir, wha' is it?"

"Well, it appears that the Reverend minister who was at our church for several years before I took over has been taken in by the police."

"What?" said Phyllis.

"Yes, it's true. It turns out that he is not a minister after all, but a con man. He was very convincing because it took quite a while for anyone to discover the deception. We found that he was taking money from the church and some of the members, and then resigned and went on to another town."

"So, wha's this t' do wi' us, Rev'rend?"

"Charlie, he is the minister who married you and Phyllis. Because he was not really a minister, any marriages he performed are null and void."

Rev Williams looked at the couple; Phyllis looked aghast, her mouth open, unable to say anything. Charlie looked overjoyed.

"So what can we do?" asked Phyllis.

"Well, this will not be difficult to fix, Phyllis. Just set another date for a ceremony and get another marriage license, and everything will be taken care of."

"Well, that's good news," said Phyllis.

"There is one technicality. You can't live in the same house until the new marriage is performed."

"Oh," said Phyllis. "Well, can't Charlie just sleep in the bathtub? I can lock the bedroom door."

"As I said, it's more of a technicality, to make things legal. That won't do, Phyllis. One of you will have to live somewhere else."

"I'll pack me bag and stay wi' Syd, Rev'rend."

"That sounds satisfactory, Charlie. As I said, I am very sorry to bring you this bad news, but it's only temporary."

Charlie saw the Reverend to the door. As he was leaving, Charlie whispered, "Yer don't know 'ow 'appy y' myde me, Rev'rend. G'noigh', Sir!"

Charlie came back and went to the closet to pull out his valise. He took his violin down from the shelf and put on his suit jacket and hat. He put his cane over his arm.

"When do you want to set the date, Charlie?" asked Phyllis.

"Y' c'n set th' date any toime y' want, me lov'ly, but I ain't plannin' to be there..."

"What!"

"I'm leavin' yer, Phyllis."

"You can't do that!"

"Oh no?"

"No, you can't leave me...why after all I've done for you, Charlie!"

Charlie put his valise down and looked at her. "What 'ave y' done fer me, Phyllis?"

"Well, I...I..." she blustered.

"Yeah, I thought so." He opened the valise and started to look through it. "We ain't married, Phyllis. I'm leavin' town."

"But what about your job at the bricklayers'?"

"Y' c'n call 'em in th' mornin' an' say I quit."

"But that...that's ...just irresponsible!"

"Yeah, ain't it..." He pulled a fat envelope out of a pocket inside the valise. He brought it over to Phyllis. He handed her a fat roll of bills.

"This is wha' I been savin' from me pay since yer was gone. I'll jus' keep a bi' of it and y' c'n 'ave th' rest..."

"Oh no, you don't...leaving me here with no means of support...hand all of it over! You're not only irresponsible, you're selfish too!"

"All o' it?"

"Yes, every cent!" Charlie reluctantly laid the rest of the money in her outstretched hands.

He turned to go. "I'm sorry it turned out this wye, Phyllis..." He hesitated, then came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She returned it and he patted her on the shoulder. She was actually crying a bit.

He walked to the door and turned again, this time tipping his hat in farewell. She nodded, wiping her eyes.

Charlie walked to Syd's home. Even though it was late, Syd came to the door and bade him come in. Charlie told him the whole story.

"I'm glad Mabel an' me were married b'fore tha' Rev'rend go' 'ere, Charlie. But I bet you ain't!" Charlie smiled.

"It was th' bes' thing wha' coulda 'appened." He hesitated. "Syd, c'n y' loan me some money? I gave Phyllis all me savin's..."

"What'd y' do tha' fer?"

"She needs th' money t' toide 'er over..."

Syd handed Charlie $25. "What's she gonna do? Take in washin' or scrub floors t' myke 'er livin'?

"I dunno an' I don't care, Syd." He paused. "I don't wish 'er nothin' bad...after all she done fer me..."

"Charlie, wha' DID she do fer yer?"

"I been tryin' t' figger tha' out since she said it...I still don't wish 'er nothin' bad..."

So, where are y' goin'?"

"Dunno. Jus' foind a new plyce, a new job..."

"An', Charlie, jus' keep th' money..."

"Thanks, Syd. By th' way, abou' Cookie..."

"Charlie, Mabel loves tha' dog, an' Cookie loves 'er back...Y' really wanna tyke 'er on th' road wi' yer?"

"Tha's wha' I was wonderin', if y' could keep 'er fer me..."

"We'd love to keep 'er, Charlie."

Charlie stayed the night at Syd's house. The following morning, Charlie ate breakfast with his brother and sister-in-law.

"Are you coming back, Charlie?" asked Mabel.

"Don't know where I'll be goin', Mabel. I sh'll be back some toime, whenevah the wind blows me 'ere..."

Charlie said his farewells to Syd and Mabel and Cookie too. Then he set off down the long road out of town, swinging his cane merrily, his step sprightly and a smile on his face.

**THE END**


End file.
